


Want to Make Him Mine

by Leio_Rossi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, John-centric, M/M, Mycroft To The Rescue, Poor John, Possessive Sherlock, Protective Mycroft, Slow Build, Teenlock, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leio_Rossi/pseuds/Leio_Rossi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is the beautiful paradox Mycroft meets in a hallway fight, and he slowly starts to fall for the blond. One problem: John is Sherlock's boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was previously written under the name Melireds/ Amelia Reds.
> 
> So what happened is my mom who is a conservative Christian (and I respect her choice of belief) found out I write gay fanfiction and decided to then delete all my stories and get me into biweekly therapy. 
> 
> I'm sorry for the confusion.

Mycroft’s POV

“Freak!”

Mycroft paused as he heard the insult echo through the hallway. He had been walking to his next class when he had found himself on the outskirts of a crowd in what seemed to be an oncoming fight. He had almost made it around the fight when he had heard the word. It hadn’t been his intent per se to immediately begin searching for a patch of unruly black hair above the head of onlookers.

Without wasting a moment, he pushed his way to the inner circle and found himself looking with relief at a young freshman (who wasn’t Sherlock) on the ground with angry tears in his eyes. Anderson and Donovan were towering over him, and the young freshman was shaking, biting his lip in fear. Mycroft sighed; the boy had blonde hair that he put product in and bright blue eyes. Ordinary and gay and obviously the most gullible and scared person that could exist.

Just as he was about to turn around and go back on his route to class, a flash of blonde flashed in the corner of his eye and he saw the freshman launching himself at Anderson. What...

“You give him what’s for, John!” a person in the crowd yelled encouragingly.

Despite his small size, John had a lot of strength and landed two well aimed punches on the junior’s face before Donovan grabbed him by the shoulder and kicked him off.

“That was a stupid move, Watson.” Sally hissed as she slapped him in the face. John smirked, and that threw Mycroft even farther into a loop. His deduction had been completely wrong. This John Watson was brave, stupidly so, but he wasn’t the gullible weak thing Mycroft had deduced at first.

“Coming from you, I would consider that a compliment. Thank you, Donovan.”

The girl snarled, but before she could hit him, she was held back by student vice president, Greg Lestrade.

“What’s going on here?” Greg demanded as John furiously glared at her.

“That little faggot was trying to hit on Anderson. We don’t need his type in these hallways.” Sally scowled.

“Funny that first, John would never go so low as to hit on Anderson, and that second, it was only because he caught you sucking each other’s faces off in the janitor’s closet that you deemed it worthy to beat him.”

Mycroft turned to find his brother sliding from the crowd to stand next to John. It only took a second before John suddenly loosened and he fell back into what Mycroft had first seen. A weak, scared boy. Sherlock gave him a concerned look before straightening his back and giving the two juniors a cold look.

“I- I would never-” Donovan sputtered, turning bright red at Sherlock’s accusation. Anderson was looking pointedly away from John. Interesting.

“Donovan and Anderson, you two come with me to the principal’s office. John, you can go to the nurse’s office or to class.” Greg gave John a pitying look and the blond looked down at his feet. The juniors walked away with Lestrade and Sherlock immediately turned to John, eyes skimming up and down John’s body, assessing the damage. 

“He’s fine, brother mine.” Mycroft drawled with a smirk. Who knew Sherlock had friends? How amusing. How human. He took a step towards the duo.

The reaction was almost immediate and Sherlock’s head snapped up, eyes meeting, and Mycroft froze at what he saw. Dilated eyes. Light blush. Defensive hands on John’s shoulders...His brother had something even worse than a friend; Sherlock had a boyfriend.

“What are you doing here, Mycroft? Don’t you have class?” Sherlock composed himself, taking a step away from John, but Mycroft had already seen all he needed to.

“The same could be asked of you.” Mycroft took a step towards John, the mystery, the puzzle, the pariah, the paradox. “And who might this be, Sherlock. I don’t believe you’ve ever introduced us.” John looked up curiously at Mycroft. Sherlock opened his mouth but found himself interrupted.

“John Watson. Freshman.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the offered hand, but he took it anyway.

“Mycroft Holmes. Sophomore.”

John’s hands had various scars on them, meaning abuse at home. Calloused fingers. Football. Odd angle of hand movement. Wound on right shoulder, suggesting gun shot. Hand shaking. Fear? No, excitement. PTSD. Bags under eyes, lack of sleep. Depression. Drunk father, mother, and brother. Hand me down clothes. Constantly unemployed parents. Scratches on arm. Cat? Volunteer at animal rescue. But also intentional cuts. Suicidal. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mycroft.”

“You as well. Now go off to class before you’re late.”

The sophomore watched with keen eyes as Sherlock and John walked briskly away. This John Watson seemed like an overall decent guy, but there was something about him that seemed off. Mycroft tilted his head and followed the duo discreetly.

“I’m just going to go clean my face. I can go alone, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock gave him an annoyed look but nodded in consent, giving John a quick kiss, before spinning off dramatically and walking away.

Mycroft followed John to the restroom and was shocked when he suddenly saw Anderson sitting next to the restroom door, legs drawn up. What shocked him more was John crouching down in front of him and telling Anderson something that made the junior look up with anger that quickly dissolved into tears. John hesitantly wrapped his arms around the junior. They stayed like that for a second and Mycroft couldn’t figure out what John had told him.

“I can’t be gay. I’m not.” Anderson was sobbing. “Sally would tell everyone and I’d lose my place as treasurer.”

Mycroft blinked in surprise. He certainly hadn't been expecting that.

“Maybe you’re not gay. You could be bi.” John said softly.

Why was the freshman being kind to Anderson? Was he cheating on Sherlock?

“I...maybe.” Anderson sniffed. “Um... Sorry about... You know.”

“Just don’t do it ever again, yeah?” John took a step back.

Anderson nodded, looking down at the ground, before turning around and walking away. John pushed open the restroom door and Mycroft rushed in with him.

“What did you tell him?”

John let out an exclamation of surprise and swirled around, facing the sophomore with wide eyes.

“W-Who?”

“Anderson.”

John looked relieved for a second.

“That it was okay to be gay. I had seen him kissing this boy yesterday outside of school and he saw me watching them. That’s why he had hit me today. When I found him and Sally kissing in the closet, he thought I was going to tell her.” John bit his lip as he turned to the mirror, wetting his hands. He rubbed off the tear stains.

“Why were you kind to him then? He hit you not ten minutes ago. That’s illogical.” Mycroft frowned.

John laughed, and Mycroft found that he oddly enjoyed the sound.

“You sound like Sherlock.” That was something he did not enjoy hearing. “Some things aren’t logical. Sometimes you’re just kind to people.”

“But why?”

John gave him an odd look.

“Did you follow me here?”

“I asked you a question first.” 

“I just feel it’s wrong to be mean to people even though they’ve done something wrong. Sometimes good people do bad things but they’re still good people.” John said as he dried his hands.

“Is that why you haven’t reported about your parents?” Mycroft sneered.

John froze before retreating into himself. His eyes turned emotionless, and Mycroft winced inwardly, already missing the easy to read emotions those blue eyes had.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have to go.” John turned away, but Mycroft grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

John turned his head and their eyes met. Grey clashing with blue. This was the first time he had ever gotten anyone he deducted about wrong. John wasn’t bipolar just was too good at hiding his emotions. He was brave but timid. Forgiving but cautious. He could see what attracted Sherlock to this seemingly ordinary boy. He frustrated him to no end and he wanted to know who he was. Mycroft felt something shift at that moment. He wanted to know more about the beautiful paradox called John Watson.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Mycroft suddenly yanked his hand away as if he had burned himself. The freshman took the chance and dashed from the restroom, leaving Mycroft staring at his wake in horror.

The sophomore placed his hand over his mouth and looked at himself in the mirror. Dilated eyes.

He was attracted to his brother’s boyfriend.

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

_John’s POV_

 

“It does not take that long to use the restroom.” 

 

John sighed, annoyed as he looked at the worksheet in front of them. He had entered English, shuffling towards his seat next to Sherlock, only to be bombarded with questions as to what Mycroft had wanted.

 

One Holmes was hard enough to deal with, and although Mycroft was downright discomforting, he wasn’t as bad as Sherlock made him out to be.. He could see why Sherlock didn’t like him, but John personally found him to be interesting.

 

“What did Fatcroft say? Did you accept the money of the bribe at least?”

 

John dropped his head to the table before sighing and turning his head to his boyfriend.

 

“Your-” The freshman was interrupted by the teacher who tapped their table twice.

 

“John, please stop talking.” Mr. Hiddleston warned with a smile before moving onto another table. John straightened up and replied with an immediate “Yes, sir.”, blushing.

 

Sherlock snorted.

 

“I should not have to rival with a teacher for my boyfriend’s attention.” He snipped as he ducked his head to his work for the first time since the beginning of class. The blond turned in his seat to face Sherlock before reaching out and intertwining his hand with Sherlock’s.

 

“Oh come on, Sherlock.” John whispered, ducking his head closer to Sherlock’s until his lips were brushing against the other’s cheek. “I’m dating _you_ , aren’t I?”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

 

John was about to say something else but then he was suddenly bumped off his seat sending him sprawled over Sherlock who caught him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his elbow. The smirking voice was unmistakeable and Sherlock looked furious.

 

“Whoops. Didn’t see you there, faggot.”

 

Flushed red in the face, John stood up and turned around to face Victor Trevor who had his arms crossed, nose upturned.

 

“Don’t talk, Trevor, you lower the IQ of the entire school. You just insulted him of being the same thing you are. Your jealousy seems to have clouded that last brain cell you had left.” Sherlock sneered.

 

“Sherlock.” Mr. Hiddleston sighed, hands on his hips, frowning at the genius.

 

“Sending me to the office would be a waste of my and your time, Mr. Hiddleston.” Sherlock huffed, already deducing where this was going to go, but the teacher looked unmoved.

 

“I won’t tolerate bullying in my classroom.” He checked his watch and turned to the class. “Everyone, remember that the Norse Legend essays are due on Friday, and we’re going to be looking at Shakespeare next week. Sherlock, come with me. Class dismissed.”

 

With that, Mr. Hiddleston nodded for Sherlock to follow him, but he was glaring coldly at Victor, and John kept his silence. This hadn’t been the first time Victor had teased them. Ever since, Sherlock and him broke up in 8 th grade, Victor had restlessly pursued him, going so far as to try and push John out of the picture.

 

“Sherlock, now.”

 

He sighed and turned, but quickly pressed a kiss on John’s lips as Hiddleston turned. Victor seethed at them, and John smiled at Sherlock who returned it.

 

Mr. Hiddleston and Sherlock walked out of the classroom and everyone filed out with them. John was already out in the hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder, head ducked. He was passing by one of the entrances when he felt a pair of hands suddenly pushing him out, and turning him until he was pinned against the wall.

 

“You think you’re something.” Victor snarled as John tried to jerk himself free which only ended in his face digging painfully into the brick wall. “But just wait, you little piece of shit. Sherlock will realize how he could do so much better than you.”

 

“Oh, someone like you would fit him better?” John growled as he managed to kick him right in the shin. Victor let go of him with a yelp but he used all his weight to push the blond back onto the wall. The back of John’s head hit one of the corners of a brick and he saw stars for a second before the pain erupted all over his head.

 

John crumbled, gripping the back of his head, pained gasps slipping out of him.

 

Victor laughed breathlessly and John was completely unprepared for the punch that came flying at him from the right. He was barely able to catch himself against the wall before another one hit him in the stomach.

 

“Sherlock is mine. He’s just confused about who he really wants. I mean, look at you. You’re poor. You’re short. You’re fat. You’re not even smart.” Victor snarled as he pushed John roughly against the wall by the shoulders, forcing a sob from the blond as it hit his bad shoulder. 

 

John curled into himself, tucking his head in between his knees as memories began to claw at him. Victor took advantage of his vulnerable position to land a kick hard on his leg.

 

“You’re pathetic.” 

 

He kicked him again, and John tensed for the next one, but it never came.

 

“John!”

 

Victor cursed under his breath and ran into the school, yanking open the doors and disappearing.

 

The blond looked up, tears running down his face, to find none other than Mycroft Holmes, crouching in front of him, dissecting him like Sherlock. His eyebrows were drawn together and John closed his eyes as he felt the bullet tear through his shoulder over and over again. Somewhere in the distance he heard the bell ringing. School seemed like a dream now.

 

“John, you’re safe.” Mycroft murmured, taking John’s hands from their death tight grip on his shoulder. The blond shot himself into Mycroft’s arms blindly, searching for something to keep him grounded. Mycroft froze for a second before wrapping his arms tentatively around John who was sobbing. Mycroft repeated the phrase until John’s breathing returned to normal and he was leaning weakly on Mycroft, in an almost asleep daze.

 

“John, we need to go to the nurse. You’re hurt.” Mycroft shook John lightly who jolted awake. The sophomore stood up and offered his hand to John who refused the help and placed a hand on the wall. He tried to hoist himself up but his knees buckled beneath him and Mycroft quickly caught him by the arms, not noticing until too late how close their faces were. 

 

“I-” John seemed to struggle to find words, looking down. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Mycroft put John’s arm around his shoulders and opened the door for them as John leaned heavily on him. Victor seemed to have kicked his right leg harder than he initially thought.

 

“How did you find me?” John asked, feeling weak.

 

“I saw you from the library through the window.” Mycroft replied curtly. The blond frowned.

 

“But that’s from the third floor. Why would you run all the way down?”

 

“Some things aren’t logical.” Mycroft parroted John’s words from earlier as they rounded the corner to the nurse’s office. Black stars were beginning to cloud John’s vision but he fought to keep putting one foot in front of the other. “Like why you didn’t scream. Someone could’ve heard and helped you before I came.”

 

John opened his mouth to reply, but how could he tell Mycroft that every time he had let out a noise during a beating, he had been punished. How could he explain to him of how instinctively it came now to close his throat while crying? How his body had been so accustomed to being quiet? Mycroft was staring at him again with those sharp keen eyes.

 

“Oh my god, what happened?”

 

John turned his head from the sophomore to the nurse, Ms. Hudson who looked horrified at the John’s state. Mycroft helped him to the bed, but he hadn’t even touched it when John felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he felt was someone’s arms surrounding him.


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft’s POV

He knew that John was fighting to stay conscious and it wasn't until they reached the nurse’s office that John fell and Mycroft readily caught him before he hit himself again. He wrapped a hand around John's waist the other on his arm, revelling in the warmth the boy's body offered. John’s head fell forward nestled in Mycroft’s neck, cold nose raising goosebumps. His breath hotly warmed the skin.

Mycroft’s grip almost slipped at the unexpected action before carefully placing the boy on the bed, and for a second, Mycroft let his hand linger over the blond’s hair, feeling the soft texture of it. In sleep, his normally guarded expression was relaxed, giving him an almost child-like look. He turned John’s head to the right as procedure called before turning to the nurse who was taking out her supplies.

“What happened to him?” Ms. Hudson asked as she took John’s arms which were scraped and bruised. Victor had also managed to make a cut along John’s cheek, something Mycroft would repay Victor for tenfold.

“He was beat up by Victor Trevor.”

“Can you go to the office and get the freshman assistant principal?”

Mycroft pursed his lips, not wanting to leave John alone even for a moment, before turning on his heel and quickly striding towards the office down the hallway. Why was John so interesting? He had only known him for an hour at most, minutes if you simply counted their interaction.

He opened the door and stepped inside, walking towards the clerk who was on her phone, checking her Facebook. Her husband was on vacation and she was worried that he was cheating on her if the circles under her eyes were anything to go by. Mycroft cleared his throat.

“Oh, hello, Mycroft. What can I do for you?” the clerk asked, putting away her phone. 

“I need to see the freshman assistant principal.”

“She’s in her office right now with your brother. I’m sure you can go in.” She smiled taking out her phone again.

Mycroft slipped past the desk and knocked on the closed door. He only had to wait a second before it was opened.

“Oh, hello, Mycroft.” Ms. Bloom's bright green eyes widened in surprise. They had already met on several occasions due to Sherlock's seemingly insatiable need to get himself in trouble.

“You are needed in the nurse's office.”

“Fatcroft, what are you doing here?” Sherlock sneered as he turned in his chair across from Ms. Bloom's desk. It only took Sherlock a sweeping glance before he was one his feet, with a protective look on his face. Three strides and he was in Mycroft's face.

“What happened?” Sherlock hissed, pushing Mycroft against the door. “Where is he?” His blue eyes flared in anger.

“Sherlock, stop.” Ms. Bloom ordered, separating the two with a hand on each shoulder before turning inquisitive eyes to Mycroft. “What happened, Mycroft?”

“John Watson was beaten by Victor Trevor and has a possible concussion. I found him and took him to the nurse's office where he fainted.” His eyes never strayed from Sherlock who immediately turned and ran out of the office.

“Sherlock, wait!” Ms. Bloom called before scowling and motioning for Mycroft to follow her. She huffed her breath as she trailed after Sherlock, only pausing to tell the clerk that she was going to the nurse's office.

“Where did you find him?” She directed the question towards Mycroft who was matching her brisk walk.

“Outside the door near the west wing.” He replied shortly as he opened the door for her.

Mycroft winced as he saw Sherlock sitting next to John who had woken up, sitting up and blearily looking at his younger brother who was cupping his face with both of his hands. He turned his gaze away as jealousy filled him.

“I'm sorry, John. I should've stayed with you.” Sherlock was murmuring to him, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. John said something unintelligible back, too low for Mycroft to hear.

“Sherlock, you need to move away from him. I'm not finished checking him over.” Ms. Hudson said, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. 

Sherlock snarled but he stood up and took a step back.

The nurse made John sit up, with legs swinging off the bed. 

Ms. Bloom sat down in the empty space next to John, giving him a comforting smile. John looked warily at her, and Mycroft could see they had talked before and that he didn't like her.

“Hello, John.” 

“Hi, Ms. Bloom.”

“Do you want to tell me how you got these bruises, John?” She asked, her eyebrows raising a little, as her hand waved towards the blossoming purple bruise on his jaw. John guiltily looked away and Mycroft frowned. What did John have to feel guilty about? He was the victim here. 

“I got into a fight. It was just playing around.”

“I beg to differ, Ms. Bloom.” Myrcoft calmly objected although he was raging inside. Why was John trying to protect that scum. Ms. Bloom shook her head at him, unseen by John because his gaze was on his hands.

“I agree with Mycroft, John. These are serious bruises, and Mycroft told me you might have a concussion. It's alright to say something, John. If someone's bullying you, you need to tell me or an adult. Why did Victor do this?”

John closed his eyes, biting his lip as a tear slid down his face. He angrily wiped it away.

“God, why am I even crying?” John seethed, clenching his hands into fists. “Trevor did it because he likes Sherlock and that I'm dating him. He pulled me out of the school and I hit my head. Otherwise I would've fine.” Every word seemed to be forced out of him, and Mycroft felt an intense hatred towards Trevor. He would pay for the pain he's done to John. 

“Thank you, John, for telling me this. He will not go unpunished for bullying you. I'm going to leave you with Ms. Hudson who's going to make you're well, okay?” Ms. Bloom placed a hand on John's shoulder and he nodded, not meeting her eyes.

She stood up and began walking towards the door where Mycroft was still standing tensely. Sherlock immediately took her spot and resumed pawing at the blond who leaned into the touches wearily.

“Mycroft, do you need a pass to go to class?” Ms. Bloom asked him as she paused at the door.

He nodded and turned towards the hallway. He wasn't going to be of any more use here. Just as he was about to close the nurse's door, he heard John calling out to him.

“Mycroft!” 

Mycroft turned, feeling his heart soar at his name being said from that mouth.

“Yes, Watson?” He asked, facing towards the boy.

His bright blue eyes met Mycroft's and he could see the pain and gratitude there. There was a slight vulnerability before John looked to the floor and muttered, “Thank you...for you know, helping me.”

“You're welcome.” 

Mycroft could feel Sherlock's suspicious eyes on him as he turned and caught up with Ms. Bloom who was already near the office door.

“Ms. Bloom, wait.” Mycroft placed a hand on her shoulder.

She stopped and faced him, raising her eyebrow.

“You seem to know John very well. Has this happened before?”

She sighed and looked around before taking a closer step to him.

“Listen, Mycroft, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I know you're only looking out for his and, to an extent I'm sure, your brothers well being. John is sent by his teachers to me because he keeps coming to school with bruises. He claims it's because of sports and playing around, but I...” Ms. Bloom looked at him with a pained expression. “I believe he's bullied at home.”

Mycroft nodded. It was like he had deduced the first time he had seen him. The scars were of abuse at home.

“Thank you.” Mycroft nodded, and the assistant principal turned and entered the office, Mycroft close behind her.


End file.
